


Pygmalion Rising

by Shannon_Kind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 03, Alternate Season/Series 04, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Android!Bones, Gen, android!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannon_Kind/pseuds/Shannon_Kind
Summary: In an alternate universe where advanced science and the supernatural are real, but considered topics of fiction, Sam and Dean Winchester have always fought the forces of darkness together. Until the day that Sam Winchester died, and Dean sold his soul for a year on earth and his brother back.Before his time runs out, Dean races to leave his brother all the information he might need, at first though letters, and later, wrapped up in the programming of his second android, Castiel.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jhoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/gifts).



> **Warning** This fic contains Major Character Death, however, like many deaths in Supernatural, it will be temporary. 
> 
> From a prompt from jhoom for my Tumblr follower celebration: anything scifi and anything team free will (with a side of destiel would be great). seriously i just want more scifi related au's, i don't care if it's space travel or meeting an alien or just some new tech, whatever. just... scifi and spn
> 
> There are a few quirks to this fic you should know before starting. There's a T minus or T plus date at the beginning of each scene, counting down to the end of Dean's year, then days since he died. Letters from Dean are italicized, and scenes are not. 
> 
> For the purposes of this story, The Magnificent Seven took place right after All Hell Breaks Loose (part 2), but the rest of the season takes place approximately lining up with their air dates. That means Sam has met Ruby, and knows that Dean made the deal, but it gives me a few months to play with before we get into canon parallels.

T-362

~~_Hey Sam. I hoped you wouldn’t figure out what I did. It’s not that you’re not smart. I know you’re smart. You’re freaking awesome. But I’m just_ ~~

~~_When you were dead, I started thinking I know I said I don’t do chick flick moments, but_ ~~

_Heya, Sammy,_

_Y_ _ou and me, we’re big damn heroes. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise. But one of these days, pretty freaking soon, I’m going to be stuck in carbonite like Han Solo. And hey, it’s not the worst way to go. But what’s your Princess Leia ass going to do without me, huh?_

_So I’m gonna write down all the awesome shit I know that you’re going to need to know when ~~I’m gone~~ ~~shit goes down~~ ~~you’re alone~~ your bitch ass is against the wall. _

_Number 1: I know dad said we don’t trust anyone but family. That’s true. But Bobby and Ellen, they’re family too. You can trust them, and trust their judgment. They’ll help you find a partner who will have your back._

_Number 2: Don’t hunt alone. I mean it, man. I’m not going to be around to come swooping in and save your ass. Let them find you help, or get out of the business. Actually, yeah. I’ll put all the awesome shit I know in one spot so maybe you don’t have to go hunting through all the lore crap, except when your nerd ass wants to, but get out of the business. Go be lawyer Sam, or doctor Sam, or freaking Great Shape Barbie Sam. Whatever you want, man. You know what’s out there. Be safe. But don’t go looking for shit. I didn’t die so you bring you back so your ass could get killed._

_~Dean_

_#_

T-354

_While your ass was off partying at Stanford, dad and I, we were still hunting. I know some of that shit made it into his journal. I ain’t going to rehash it all here. But not all of it did. Or sometimes he wasn’t there. ~~That’s right. I hunted shit by myself. I’m awesome. Don’t you forget it.~~ _

_**Onocentaur.** These guys know how to have a good time. They’re asses though. They eat freaking anything. Put a little poison out in their beer. Just don’t drink the beer after that. Generally, these guys don’t cause too much trouble, but after a few too many they’ll get into fights. Stronger than the average person. Look for hoof prints and baggy overalls. _

_**Blemmye.** Yeah. The headless horseman? He was real. And Johnny Depp is not up to kicking his ass. Apparently Shakespeare even knew about these guys. Or maybe he didn’t. Shit, Sammy. Do you think Shakespeare knew about real witches? Heh. Anyway. They eat human flesh. They’re particularly attached to brains. Apparently they may be where the zombie myth comes from. Head shots don’t take them out; they don’t have heads. You need fire. They have faces on their chest, and their eyes are weak if you can get a shot in. _

_**Ogres.** Also who knew? And not the Shrek kind. The eats babies kind. That movie had it all wrong. Iron to the head. Iron buckshot will slow them down, but it’s got to be a head shot to kill them. _

_Uhm yeah. I mean… I got a whole year to do this. Well almost. I don’t have to think of it all in one go. Writing is stupid. But uh… I’m not going to stop, okay?_

_#_

T-349

“Sam! Get your garbage can off my damn seats. It’s leaking oil again.”

The younger Winchester crosses the parking lot with two cups of coffee. He puts them down on the Impala’s roof so he can reach inside the car and take care of Dean’s problem. “Bones isn’t an ‘it,’ Dean. She’s a girl. If you can gender your car you shouldn’t have a problem with this.” Dean scoffs. “Come here girl.” Whining fills the air as Sam pulls the dog from the back seat. “It’s not oil, it’s hydraulic fluid. Look, her front leg is frozen, that’s why she didn’t jump out, right girl?” The metal dog whines again.

Dean is already pushing past them into the car, trying to soak up the amber liquid with a rag. “Why the hell did I let you get a dog? This crap stinks like sulfur. How am I supposed to know if we’ve got a dog or a demon in here with us?”

“I don’t think Bones can be possessed,” Sam answers, gently flexing the injured leg. Bones licks his face. The tongue isn’t wet, but it’s covered in pink synth-skin, so it’s soft. He rubs her silver head.

“Yeah, well. You can.” He makes a disgusted sound when a shift in his weight sends the oil running towards the seat’s stitching.

Sam pops the trunk and pulls the half empty gallon jug of hydraulic fluid and it’s syringe from the back. “That’s why Bobby gave us the charms,” he says.

Dean appears next to him. “Yeah, cause that can’t break or get lost.” He looks between the soaked rag and his trunk a few times before pulling an empty plastic bucket from the back and throwing the rag in there.

Sam levels an annoyed look at Dean. “What do you want? We’ll get it tattooed on? Then you’ll know if it’s me or Bones.” He kneels down and injects the fluid into the dog’s joint, smiling as she tests her leg gently before running a lap around him and the car.

“Now that is the best idea you’ve had all year,” Dean says. He waits for Sam to pack the fluid back into the trunk before closing it. “How do I know she isn’t just going to leak all over my car again?”

“I… uh…”

“You are completely useless. You know that?” Dean runs a hand through his hair. He hands the keys to his brother. “Get the tools. It’s probably a seal.” Sam unlocks the trunk again and grabs the bag, dropping it next to Dean’s feet. “Careful,” he scolds him.

Knelling in front of Bones, Sam reassures her. “It’s okay girl. Dean will have you fixed up in no time.”

“Me? Oh no. It’s about time you learned. I won’t be here to do this forever.” Dean’s mouth hangs open, the weight of his words just sinking in. Sam looks away. Dean closes his mouth; swallows.

A yip from Bones breaks the silence. “Yeah, girl,” Dean says quietly, “Sam's going to fix you up.”

#

T-342

 _I_ _been working a lot on my Baby. She’s gonna be your Baby soon. Take care of her. Don’t put any of those freaking CDs or MP 2 players in there, okay?_

_She’s a classic. She deserves to be treated like a lady._

_She’s gonna get rusty if you don’t take care of her. And original parts are hard to find. So stop it before it starts. Keep her waxed up. Every three months. Put it on that fancy-pants calendar in your phone and don’t freaking forget._

_Keep her leather hydrated. You gotta use the cream conditioner. None of that runny shit they make for new cars. I’ll make sure you have some. Just match it as best you can when you run out._

_You gotta’ change her oil. Every 3,000 miles. They rack up pretty quick in our line of work, but once you get a 9-5 it won’t be a big deal. Every second time you do her oil, rotate her tires. It ain’t hard. I’m sure your fancy computer can tell you how to do it, but I’ll make sure I show you, sooner rather than later. We’ll work on it. Your nerd brain won’t forget it._

_And, when you rotate the tires, check the brake pads. Don’t wait until you feel them grinding or she ain’t stopping right._

_Check the belts. You don’t want them stretched or shiny or looking worn out in places. Changing them can be a pain in the ass. But do it anyway. It ain’t worth it to let it go._

_Just take care of her, Sammy. She’s important._

_#_

T-338

_~~I need you to know,~~ _

_~~I always thought~~ _

_Hey, so I was looking at the contacts in my phone, and I figured I ought to give you a list._

_**Francine Hodge, Boston MA. 617-555-4298** _

_She works up at Boston University, but has a hell of a private collection. Not so good on the lore. Managed to save her from the ghost of a necromancer. Her husband wasn’t so lucky. Still, she’s got a good collection of obscure shit, and she’ll loan it out for a price. Plus she can give you info on some of the stuff up at the university. I wouldn’t get her involved if you need to use any of their shit though._

_**Terrence Lippincott, Prescott AZ. 928-555-4212** _

_Mad as freaking hatter. Fancies himself a hunter but only hunts bigfoot, or whatever the local equivalent is. Still, if you’re in the area and need a place to spend the night he’s got some awesome fish stories. Lot of hunters out that way check in with him from time to time, so he can get info if he needs it. Just take the yeti shit with a grain of salt._

_**Brain O’Neil, Maltby WA. 360-555-1387** _

_Brian’s specialty is demons. He’s pretty much settled down in Maltby because of some stuff that went down in a local cemetery, but he’s pretty willing to share his knowledge if you share your whiskey._

_**Mallory Peschel, Pilot Knob KY. 859-555-6239** _

_That town is full of freaking witches. Not just witches man, dead witches. Anyway, Mal owns a cutesy little New Age shop on the edge of town. It’s a bunch of crap really, but she’s hot. Turned me down cause I wasn’t staying. Always figured I’d get back there to try again some day… Maybe you’re more her type._

_#_

T-332

For as much as Dean claims to hate Bones, he sure spends a lot of time with her. When Sam comes looking for his dog, he doesn’t expect to find her half taken apart, her insides strewn around the lot next to the motel where they are staying between gigs. “Dean? What’s wrong with Bones?” Dean looks up from what he’s doing, pulling a screwdriver from his mouth. His smug grin makes Sam nervous. “What did you do?” he accuses.

Come to think of it, there seems to be a lot fewer metal parts in his dog, replaced with an almost gallon sized white plastic tank sloshing with some kind of liquid he can just about see, and more flexible plastic tubing than Sam remembers.

“Relax, she’s fine.” Sam’s hands on his hips and pursed lips obviously don’t agree. Ignoring them, Dean picks up the coffee cup from the ground next to him and drains it in a final gulp. He taps the dog’s mouth and commands “Open, Bones.” When the dog opens her mouth, he plops in something Sam can’t see from his pocket. With another tap, Bones closes her mouth, and Sam can hear the rumbling and puttering of the liquid inside her as it travels through the tubes. Dean pulls the lid off his coffee cup and puts it under her chin, where a few moments later a steaming brown liquid starts to pour out. When it crackles to a stop, Dean takes a sip with an exaggerated smile. A crunching sound comes from Bone’s mouth, Sam sees a crunched white plastic fall into her body cavity. Dean grimaces. “I gotta put a collection unit in for that.”

“Why are you drinking dog drool?” Sam asks, exasperated.

“Come on, Sammy. These one cup coffee machines are all the rage. Shouldn’t you be thanking me? What good is a robotic husky if it can’t fetch my coffee in the morning? Besides, you can make all those girly drinks you like and I don’t have to deal with some fancy coffee house.”

“What good is she? I don’t know, how about companionship? How about you set her up with a recorded exorcism in case we find any more demons? How about that you made sure her outer body was made of iron, or that she has a tranquilizer gun, or can shoot salt rounds?”

But Dean’s not listening. His head is buried back inside the dog. Nimble fingers pull the crushed coffee pod from the dog and throw it on a pile of what Sam can only assume are discarded pieces. The screwdriver goes back in Dean’s mouth, and he fiddles with some more of the tubing. “I’m not drinking dog drool. And those coffee pods are terrible for the environment.”

Dean does pause at that. “You think I could rig her up with a supply of ground beans? Like she’d make one cup at a time, but I wouldn’t have to keep putting in the coffee pods? Or hey! I could put in a grinder!” Rolling his eyes, Sam walks away. Dean shrugs and goes back to work.

#

T-330

_I’ve had you back for a little over a month now. A month. Guess it kind of goes by fast._

_I uh… I wasn’t going to write this, but something Bobby said has been bothering me._

_When you’re reading this, things will have happened, and I uh… I need you to know, I don’t regret it. Not any of it. You’re the smart one. You’re the one with a life to live, the one who has a chance at normal. I’m not sure I ever knew what normal was. But I’d do it again for you in a heartbeat._

_S_ _o just, take care of yourself. Try not to feel guilty. Just go out and live your life._

_And hey, if you get a kid, you can name him after his awesome uncle._

_Yeah._

_Yeah._

#

T-316

~~_Heya, Sammy_ ~~

~~_Long time, no see. I_ ~~

#

T-310

Dean is awake again. Seems like he hardly sleeps at all anymore. He sits up on the motel bed. It’s almost too small for him, and he can’t imagine how tiny it must feel to Sam, but when he looks over, Sam is sleeping soundly. Bones lifts her head from where she lies near the bathroom door, plugged in to one of the complimentary outlets by her tail. He lifts a finger to his lips, and she puts her head back down on her paws, the bright blue lights that serve as her eyes dimming to barely there pinpricks. Sighing, Dean slides his boots on and pulls the laces tight before throwing a T shirt over his bare chest and grabbing a dark flannel against the 2 AM chill. He grabs the keys to the Impala and heads into the motel parking lot. Bones lifts her head and her eyes open to half brightness, but seeing it’s just him, she shuts back down to sleep mode.

Running a hand over the car’s trunk, Dean whispers “Hey, Baby,” into the night. He keys it open and looks inside. Last year at this time, there would be nothing to see in the trunk once they pulled out their bags of clothes. At least, nothing visible, since the arsenal stays in the wheel well. This year, the trunk is filled with a box of bolts, another of brackets and hinges, and metal parts, large and small, scavenged from Bobby’s garage. He knows what he’s aiming for now, even if it is just some stupid pipe dream. Grabbing two 32 inch diameter steel cylinders that he’d hammered into ellipses back at Bobby’s, some sheet metal with pins soldered on, and a couple of brackets, Dean sets about putting the pieces together to make a torso.

After about ten minutes he drops the wrench and bends to pick it up, knocking his head on the trunk. He muffles a curse and decides to work in the back seat. It’s a tight squeeze, but he manages to get the pieces together so that the torso can bend and flex. He didn’t bring much more to work on. Hopefully they can gank these vamps in the morning so he can go back to Bobby’s and add this to his project. Maybe grab some more pieces. Or maybe he can smuggle out a computer. Sam won’t think too much about it, will he?

Yeah, that could work. Dean can smuggle out a computer and start seeing if he can program the thing. Shouldn’t be too hard. He already has the program he wrote up for Bones. Making a humanoid robot should be pretty similar. Not that Sam knows he wrote the program for Bones. Probably thinks he bought it online, or got it as trade for a hunt or something.

#

T-311

Before Dean knows it, he’s waking up groggy in a puddle of drool on the back seat of his Baby. The steel is thankfully shoved haphazardly at his feet and still dry, not that a little drool would have caused a problem. Someone knocks on the Impala’s windows, probably what woke him up, and he looks up to see Sam silhouetted in the morning light. He’s holding a cup of coffee. “Thank god,” Dean groans. Struggling to sit up, Dean manages to get the door unlocked and opened. Sam stares down at him with an exasperated expression on his face, so Dean mocks it, grabbing the coffee. Bones runs around in circles behind Sam. Dean rolls his eyes, but he has coffee, so he doesn’t complain.

While Dean downs his coffee, Sam takes the keys and opens the trunk. Dean can hear him grumbling as he pushes aside the gathered parts to lift the plate covering their weapons collection. When Sam comes back around, he’s holding two machetes, what looks like an ammo box, and a thick bottle filled with a viscous red liquid. He rests the machetes on the roof of the car and opens the box.

“You sure you don’t want to fill them inside?” Dean asks, looking over the tranquilizer darts as Sam uncaps the dead man’s blood.

“If I go back inside, you’ll fall asleep. We only get a few hours while they’re weakened.” Dean scoffs, but he can’t really argue. In his version of an apology, Dean helps load the tranquilizer darts into Bone’s clip. Having a dog along is actually kind of awesome on some hunts, not that Dean would admit it. Sometimes she draws fire, sometimes she can do a little more. In the case of vampires, it’s nice to have something that they don’t smell as a threat or food.

***

Things don’t go exactly as planned. One of the vamps gets away, and jumps into some disgustingly foreign car and speeds off. Bones has the other three incapacitated with the dead man’s blood, and Sam methodically beheads them. Dean leaves him to jump into the Impala and gives chase.

Dean can hardly see the vamp through its tinted windshield as he spins around, challenging Dean to a bizarre game of chicken. Dean presses the gas, urging the Impala forward on the empty back road. The vamp comes at him faster. At the last second, Dean pulls the wheel to the left, but the vamp keeps coming, slamming into the passenger side and damaging the door.

The impact dizzies Dean, and he regains his equilibrium just in time to see the vamp stalking around to his side of the car. Dean reaches for the machete, but there’s no place to swing it in the front seat of the car. The vamp wrenches open the door, and Dean stabs forward, impaling the vampire through the stomach. It doesn’t kill him, but he stumbles back, and Dean yanks the machete from the vampire’s body, getting out of the car in one fluid movement. The vampire opens his mouth in a sinister smile and his second set of teeth slide into view. With one final swipe, Dean takes off his head. He wipes the blood off the blade with the dead vamp’s jacket, loads the body into the trunk, after laying down a tarp over his creation in progress, and drives it back to Sam so they can take care of all the bodies in one giant “electrical” fire.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to [AutumnSwitch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnSwitch/pseuds/AutumnSwitch), without whom my work would be far less enjoyable for me, and far less legible to you.


End file.
